Beauty and the Sheikh (6 page)

“Let me promise you something in return then, Rafiq. I will never again call you
Your Majesty
. But I will play the role of your mistress out in public in a performance
so damn worthy
that you may just find me nominated for a damn Academy Award,” she bit out. “But remember, it will only be a performance. Because I also promise you will never—
ever
—have me in your bed as your lover.”

It was hard to keep her momentum with his hot breath falling against her mouth. 

Rafiq’s laugh was languid and knowing. “I’m going to enjoy making you break that promise,
habiba
. Almost as much as I will enjoy hearing you beg for my touch.”

A shiver of foreboding ran through her. “You’re delusional.”

Rafiq’s smile hardened. Actually, he was quite sure she was the one deluding herself. But instead of continuing their verbal sparring, which had only succeeding in frustrating and arousing him, he chose to seal their contract with a kiss.

He closed the tiny space that separated them and touched the softness of her lips with his own. She didn’t pull away, but neither did she respond, just kept her mouth pressed as tightly closed as her eyes.

Loving the challenge, knowing he could break her insolence, he brushed a series of soft kisses over her lips. He let his tongue flick out to trace the seam of their lush fullness. Desire accelerated fiercely inside him until the need to touch her, taste her, consumed him. But he restrained it, wanting only to see her give in to this moment, this one touch. For now, it would be enough.

He slid his hand up her back and into the silky softness of her chestnut hair, capturing the strands and holding her still as he increased the pressure of his mouth against hers.

The tremble of her body against his was the first signal he was close to breaking her resistance.

He tilted his head just enough so their mouths melded together perfectly as he traced his finger over the back of her neck. The tension there eased and she moaned softly. 

Rafiq used the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth.

The soft mew of pleasure she made was the final indication he’d succeeded in her yielding, but still he didn’t let himself give in to the desire that pulled at his frail willpower. He prided himself on control and he would keep it. He deepened the kiss, abandoning any gentleness now as he tasted her and explored her. Demanding nothing but her entire submission.

And she gave it. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, clinging to him as she kissed him back feverishly, with the skill of a woman who knew how to pleasure.

The blood flowed to his groin and he pressed himself against her, letting Holly feel his arousal. He knew he should release her now, pull back and walk away. Demonstrate some form of control, but as it always had been with her—one taste and it was impossible to let go.

He slid his hands down to cup her hips through the denim. The thought of her long legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged into her had him hardening almost impossibly. 

The pressure and discomfort brought him back to reality. Grounded him when he’d come so close to letting himself go. If he didn’t stop now, then he would take Holly, perhaps even here on the dining table.

She wouldn’t stop him, and he was the Sheikh. He could have anything and anyone he wanted. But he refused to lose control any more than he already had.

How was it possible she addled his brain so? No woman should have that kind of power. She was far too skilled a seductress. 

Rafiq slowed the kiss, giving himself time to regain complete control before lifting his head. Holly’s eyes remained closed and she cried out in protest, then her lips pressed together and she made a noise of disbelief. She was probably angry with herself and her reaction.

“I have work to do,
habiba
,” he murmured, touching his thumb against her swollen bottom lip. “You have freedom to explore my palace, but do not leave without the chaperone of one of my guards.” 

Her lashes fluttered up, but there was no desire or disorientation in her eyes. It seemed she’d taken the time to gather her emotions as well. “So I’m to be watched over like a child then?”

His lips tightened as darker thoughts flitted through his head. “My country is quite different than America. There are always threats against me and those who are close to me. And despite the luxuries of the city, the land itself can be dangerous for those more vulnerable and unfamiliar with it.”

“So women are to be locked inside? Submissive to their men and hidden away?”

“Is that what you think?” He arched a brow. “Where did you find such an ignorant stereotype?”   

“I have no idea what to think of Raljahar.” She lifted her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes flashing with frustration. “My assumptions are mostly based upon the man who rules it.”

He smoothed his thumb over her mouth once more, enjoying the way it trembled beneath his touch. “Well,
habiba
, you will have three months to get to know me and my country quite intimately.”

“I’m fine getting to know your country, but I think I’ll pass on getting to know any part of you intimately. Until I leave, I’ll be marking off the days on the calendar like a kid counting down to Christmas.”

He didn’t doubt it for a moment, but her comments had gotten under his skin, and despite his earlier decision he wanted to clear up one misunderstanding. “One more thing, Holly. I have no harem. So when you’re in my bed, you’ll find my appetite quite virile.” He released her once more and turned to walk away. “I shall return for supper.”

“I would like to explore the city.”

The guard stationed outside her room stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

Holly stood in the doorway and folded her arms across her chest. She’d been in her room for two hours already and was nearly mad with anxiety, wondering what was going on with her brother. She’d already spent a good amount of time checking email, and sending one to her neighbor begging him to keep Butterball, her cat, for a few months instead of days.

“I am not a prisoner here,” she continued. “Unless Rafiq has said otherwise?”

The man flinched when she said Rafiq’s name; obviously he still did not approve of her referencing the Sheikh in such a disrespectful manner. “You are, of course, free to go outside the palace, Miss Winchester. So long as you are accompanied by bodyguards.”

She’d expected nothing less, and if it meant having a bit of freedom then she’d take it. “Fine. Let me grab my purse and I’ll be ready in a moment.”

Nearly a half hour later, Holly found herself immersed in one of the city’s most popular markets. She’d visited the markets briefly during her first visit to Raljahar but had left wanting to explore more.

Everywhere she looked there were vibrant colors from clothing, scarves, and blankets, not to mention the produce, while the smell of spices filled the air. 

The walkway was narrow and crowded, with booths on either side to tempt their wares. Somewhere down the street music was being played, and she just barely bit back the temptation to start moving her hips to the enthralling eastern notes. It reminded her of the belly dancing classes she’d taken for fitness a few years back. The eastern culture had always intrigued her.

She’d left the palace in a foul mood, but somehow Holly couldn’t help but become caught up in the excitement and bustle of the market.

While passing another stand, a woman with a small child beside her called out to her in Arabic, holding up a bright red scarf. 

Holly shook her head, wishing she could communicate better. 

“You are English?” the seller called out.

“American.”

The woman beamed. “Welcome to Raljahar. My name is Faiza. I have a scarf that would look lovely with your coloring, ma’am.”

Smiling faintly, Holly moved to take the scarf from the woman. “I’m Holly. And you speak English perfectly.”

“Thank you. My father is English, and so I am bi-lingual. My daughter also speaks.”

Holly kneeled down by the girl and smiled. “Is it true? Can you speak English?”

The girl, probably around four or five, clung to her mother’s leg and stared shyly at Holly. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

Holly’s smile widened. “What is your name?”

“Inas.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Inas. You speak English just as well as your mommy.” Holly straightened and gave a rueful smile. “I wish I spoke your native language, but I only know a few words.”

The woman gave her a considering look. “Will you be in Raljahar long?” 

Too long. Far too long. 

“A few months.” She slid a glance over the colorful clothing in the woman’s stand and sighed. Since she would be here a while, perhaps she should try to blend in more?

There were skirts and long-sleeved blouses of various colors and fabrics. Beautifully woven, some with beads or designed with gorgeous patterns. 

“You like the purple skirt, ma’am?”

“I like several of them. And please, call me Holly.” She bit her lip and then nodded. “I think I’d like to buy a few things, actually, including the scarf.”

Before too long, Holly had searched through the array of clothing and filled a large bag with purchases. 

Fiaza handed her the bags and smiled warmly. “Thank you, Holly. You will look beautiful in them. And if you truly want to learn to speak our language, I teach daily classes at my home to tourists or non-Arab-speaking westerners. I gave you my card, which has my contact information and the hours.”

From behind her, Holly heard the bodyguard give a small grunt of disapproval.

Fiaza’s gaze widened, as if she’d just realized the man who wore the palace’s uniform was escorting Holly. “But of course, that may not be appropriate,” she said on a rush. “It was presumptuous of me—”

“Not at all. I will definitely keep your warm offer in mind. Thank you, Fiaza.”

The bodyguard finally cleared his throat and gave her a reproachful look. “Miss Winchester, we should leave. It is approaching supper time.”

Biting back a sigh, Holly nodded. For a couple of hours she’d let herself enjoy a bit of freedom, speak with the people of Raljahar and explore a popular marketplace. The city fascinated her, almost more this time than it had last time.

As much as she loathed Rafiq, she couldn’t seem to hate his country. The people were so warm and friendly, all full of stories and eager to help her explore.

Holly allowed herself to be escorted out of the marketplace and into the sleek black car that whisked her back toward the palace. Her forced home for the next few months. Oh my God, if she really thought about it she got nauseous. It was far too overwhelming.

As they approached the palace, her breath once again caught at how magnificent the structure was. The cream building was a mass of arches and columns, architecturally gorgeous, its symbolism awe-inspiring.

When she’d come here two years ago she’d been equally enchanted, probably because she’d never met a real sheikh before. 

Her smile faded. 

At least now she knew just how overrated the experience was.

Chapter 5

Back in the palace, Holly spent the rest of the day in her room. She had no desire to go explore the palace any further—especially with Rafiq’s watchdogs shadowing her every move.

Exhaustion had finally taken over. She’d been lying on the bed for the last hour, trying to nap, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. She couldn’t stop worrying about her brother or thinking about what had happened at breakfast with Rafiq. The market had been a good distraction, but once she was alone again with her thoughts, it all came rushing back.

Just remembering what had happened at breakfast sent a wave of shame and humiliation through her. How could her body have betrayed her like that? 

It was hard not to resent Rafiq. To compare him to the men in the career she’d walked away from.

Her time modeling had been short. She’d started at eighteen and was out just before her twenty-second birthday. All too often she’d met men who'd wanted to exchange sexual favors for advancement and otherwise impossible opportunities. 

She’d been so young and sheltered that at first she’d been shocked by the advances, then gradually had become more angry and jaded the longer she’d stayed in the industry. It had turned her off of men and dating completely. Until she’d met Rafiq…and now the Sheikh was trying to use her the same way. Granted, he wasn’t outright asking for sex—though he was quite upfront with his intent to seduce her.

At one time, she never would have thought him capable of falling into the same category as the other men. When she’d met him he’d been so distinctive and compelling, mysterious, even while charming. But he’d been playing her like a well-tuned violin. He’d probably never had any intentions of allowing the photo shoot to happen in his country, had simply drawn out his response time to see if she’d go to bed with him.

Thank God she hadn’t. It would have made her humiliation all that much more substantial when he’d thrown them out of his country.

“I am such an idiot.” 

She was exhausted and needed sleep, and yet her mind couldn’t stop thinking about Rafiq.

The sound of the door clicking open was the only warning she had before the man who occupied her thoughts strode into her room.

Holly sat up on the bed, heat warming her cheeks. “Maybe you could try and knock first next time?” For goodness sake, what if she’d been changing?

Rafiq ignored her sharp remark, the white robes swirling about his legs as he made long strides across the room toward her.

Her indignation died as she spotted the scowl of irritation on his face. Had she done something to upset him? But of course that was a silly question. When hadn’t she?

“I hear you went to the marketplace today.”

“Was that against the rules?” She tilted her head. “Perhaps I heard wrong, but I thought you said as long as I brought one of your henchman with me I would be allowed to leave the palace.”

“No, you heard right.”

“Then why have you come, if not to berate me for going into the city?”